Rationality
by hoard-of-stars
Summary: And it scared her. It scared her so bad because she had never felt that way, never been so haunted by a memory, a ghost of the past. The Erudite didn't mourn long. They gave their sympathy towards friends and loved ones whose own loved ones had passed, but they didn't stay fixated on it. Grief was something most Erudite could not waste time on. But then what was she doing?


She took a deep, shuddering breath. She could feel his hand rubbing her back to calm her down, like he always did when they were kids. According to past studies, there were only a few ways to cease anxiety, and that was not one of them.

But somehow it had always worked.

She closed her eyes but that did nothing. She saw the imprint of her eyes behind closed lids- they shouldn't be so green, they _can't_ , logically, be so green! They couldn't be so bright and full of inquisitiveness because he was gone, they should be dull and glassy and clouded over with the fog of death.

But they weren't.

She bit down on her bottom lip and somewhere between the biting down and the _pain,_ even though she personally thought self-harm was weak- there were effective, medically conditioned ways to deal with depression- the metallic, coppery taste that had grown so familiar flooded her mouth and she was _relishing_ in it. She could feel his smile, so crinkly and proud and when he smiled and you were in the room it was nothing short of contagious so of course you had to smile with him.

Her hands flew up to her ears and her legs to her chest and she squeezed her eyes shut so hard she saw white and she pressed her bleeding lips together tightly, tightly to block out anything that could have escaped. The results made her want to scream, because she still heard his bubbling laugh and the steady pace of his walking and the locks of shaggy blond hair falling into his eyes, framing the crease between his brows they both shared..

And it scared her. It scared her so bad because she had never felt that way, never been so _haunted_ by a memory, a ghost of the past.

The Erudite didn't mourn long. They gave their sympathy towards friends and loved ones whose own loved ones had passed, but they didn't stay fixated on it. Grief was something most Erudite could not waste time on.

But then what was she doing?

 _Wasting your time_! A crueler, harsher voice hissed. She blanched, almost believing it. But… her brother, her baby brother… he was no loved one of a friend or close neighbor or colleague government leader's relative. He was the one who had been with her for longer than she could remember and then some. He was the boy who memorized a map of the city for fun, the boy who had committed to memory all the different faction manifestos. He was the boy who was dead.

Never again would his green eyes lock with hers, merry with amusement. Never again would she chastise him to get a haircut, for the love of God, because that just wasn't efficient. She would never witness the pure enjoyment he got out of his long, winded speeches about random topics. She would never again get to witness anything about him.

And it was all that Prior girl's fault. The logical part of her had to admit that Tris Prior had been trained to kill, that she might have acted out of instinct rather than malice. But did it matter when the instinct had resulted in the loss of a brother for her?

 _Why, why did she let him choose Dauntless? Why did she not tell him to stay close to home, to stay with_ her, _because she needed him and he needed her and they were family, brother and sister and the best of friends._

A choking, spluttering, thick noise bounced off the walls of the room. She glanced around wildly, trying to figure out who could have gotten in and who made the undignified noise. When she saw no one, she realized it was her with the boulder in her throat and the weight on her shoulders and the desire for her fire to go out, out and hiss like the voice speaking in her mind as it did so. If the fire went out, it would be out like his, and would it be so bad to see him once more?

Would he want this for you? A quiet voice suddenly spoke clearly in her mind. Would he want you to think like this? To be like this?

No. The word came to her so quickly she straightened her back and sprang to her feet. No, he would not want this. He would reject it with so much disgust and bitterness.

 _He would say, "You're being irrational. As intelligent as you are, you can be so blindly irrational and that takes away from your intellectuality. Stop being irrational and go through with the right, perceptive option, because that option is sure to come through in the end."_

And he was right.

She was being irrational. He hated irrationality with every fiber of his being.

Straightening up, she took a deep breath that didn't shudder quite so much as the first. Undoing her uncharacteristically messy updo, she let it fall from its bindings and flow down her back. With shaking hands she picked up a comb and ran it through her hair several times over until it was smooth and neat.

She couldn't braid for the life of her, what was the use for such a useless skill? But it seemed right, practical and simple for when she didn't have time for anything else. Her fingers still trembled as she started weaving the strands of hair together as tightly as she could, and in time she had a slightly crooked but mostly neat braid resting on her back.

She had to collect herself. And she was going to do just that. It didn't matter what the Prior girl had done, because what was done was done and there was no changing that. But she was going to be the kind of person he would have wanted her to become, a rational, level-headed leader.

Her beautiful brother… he would be proud of her for her proceeding actions. And when she got to meet him again, whenever that may be, she would greet him with the loudest laugh and the brightest smile and the most crushing embrace.

And yet he would still manage to laugh louder, smile brighter, embrace even more crushingly. Because that was just the nature of Will, to outdo everyone in a way that nobody seemed to mind.

And she was just fine with that, because years later, decades upon decades later, when she was finally going to go, he greeted her. And he greeted her just as she had predicted. But that wasn't the best part. The best part was when Will took her by the wrists and locked gazes with her and said, "Thank you for not turning on Tris and the cause just because I was gone."

"Thank you for making me proud, Cara."

 **Yes, Will and Cara angst. Yes, I read the Divergent series. Finished it today, actually.**

 ***deep breath***

 **I have found a bigger troll than Uncle Rick, fandom.**


End file.
